


Lovely Lace

by robinasnyder



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone/Precival Graves, Genderqueer Credence, Happy Ending, Lingerie Designer/Model AU, M/M, Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski - Freeform, past and present abuse/manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinasnyder/pseuds/robinasnyder
Summary: Newt Scamander is an independent lingerie designer. He tells people he does it to fund the farm-turned-animal-sanctuary he runs in Upstate New York. But really, he also enjoys making intimate pieces for people that make them feel beautiful and comfortable. Credence Barebone is a model, and the face of Graves House Fashion and has been for the past three years since he escaped the home of his abusive mother. Modeling feels like a refuge. It's okay that he likes men. And that's better than before. Even if Mr. Graves gets angry that Credence would rather be called queer, not gay. Even if Mr. Graves gets furious that Credence sometimes tries to wear effeminate clothes. Mr. Graves hasn't been wrong yet, so he must be right about this. Credence is used to being wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

“Niffler, no,” Newt said in the way a man only can after the ten thousandth time he discovers his raccoon has stolen his neighbors silverware. 

Newt always took time to clear out Niffler’s den about once a week. He and Niffler were both very lucky that their closest neighbor were more amused than angered by Niffler’s thefts. Their previous neighbors had nearly poisoned Niffler to death. If Newt hadn’t discovered it in time, they would have succeeded. He was only grateful that he’d been about to move when it happened. His current neighbors were much more accommodating.

At 34, Newt was a lingerie designer who used the money he made to fund an animal sanctuary that he’d converted from a farm. He’d lived in England for years, making many trips between his home in the country side to London, Paris or Milan. As he lived alone and had no friends at the time, it had made things very difficult. It made the move to America seem like a good idea. 

It turned out better than he thought. He’d used the last of his inheritance to purchase nearly 200 acres of farm land in Upstate New York. It gave him plenty of land for his animals, and was shockingly close to the interstate. The drive could be grueling, but because of a good internet connection he didn’t need to drive into New York City all that often.

And when he did, his friend Jacob Kawolski, would come and animal sit. 

Jacob actually came by for more than animal sitting. He and his new bride, Queenie Goldstein-Kawolski owned a local bakery. Newt found himself over at their store or apartment as often as the couple were over at his farm. 

Newt was secretly very proud of himself for introducing them. The Goldstein sisters were the first models Newt chose to work with when he launched his first line from New York. The sisters stayed with Newt for a few nights before the shoots started. Queenie and Jacob hit it off instantly. They were married within the year. And Queenie’s homebody sensibilities and warmth combined well with Jacob’s kindness and good nature. The pair of them made delicious and creative pastries and meals. 

Also, Queenie living Upstate meant that Tin was willing to brave the drive often enough that Newt got to see her regularly. She often stayed at his farm to not intrude on her sister and Jacob. Newt didn’t mind. He really loved having her over. 

“Did Niffler steal the Armstrong’s silver again?” Tina asked, walking up behind Newt. 

“Yes,” Newt said. He spotted Niffler walking out on his hind legs, a couple of shiny coins balanced in his paws. “You’re lucky Mrs. Armstrong things you’re funny,” he warned Niffler. 

Niffler just dropped his coins in his den and hoped inside, efficiently stopping Newt’s cleaning efforts. Newt gave Niffler a disappointed look while Tina laughed behind him. 

“Because, Newt. If you keep treating them like people, your animals are going to think they are people too,” Tina cautioned. 

“Well,” Newt said, straightening up. “That’s not the worst thing. Are you packed to go?” 

“That’s my line,” Tina said.

When Newt turned around he saw she had two mugs. He smiled and walked over, taking the mug from her. He pressed into her side. They stayed that way got a while, drinking their coco, watching the sun set. It was times like these that made Newt feel wistful. Tina was his most important almost. 

They had spent a few months dancing around each other. Both put up roadblocks about it not being right since they were working together. But all of that eventually melted away. They were attracted to each other. They almost got together, but then Tina went back to New York City. 

Tina loved the city. She would live there and die there and be buried there. Newt didn’t want that for himself. It wasn’t something they could reconcile. But that was fine. The few kisses they’d traded meant more to Newt than his entire first relationship. Newt had never known that kisses could have healing powers. Maybe it was just Tina, and the way she just wanted to give the world everything she had. She told Newt outright that he didn’t have to give into everything to make someone love him. 

Their not getting together as a couple, but still being friends mended the damage done by his relationship with Lena Lestrange. He could say no. That didn’t make him unloveable. 

Newt wasn’t certain exactly what he provided Tina, but she told him that he gave her something special too. The soft, warm smile she wore when she said that made him shiver. He ached that it hadn’t worked sometimes. Her sense of justice and sensitivity toward people made her good at her chosen “hobby”. 

That was something else they had in common. Newt made lingerie because it funded his farm. Tina was a model because it funded her wish to help people. She and her fellow model, Seraphina Picquery formed a non-profit trying to combat injustice in the city. Newt made steady monthly donations, as did the Goldstein-Kowalskis. 

“Are you looking forward to this week?” Tina asked. 

“To a point,” Newt said. He was a quiet, awkward man. His friends had warmed him up, it was true. But that didn’t change his nature. Still, Lingerie Fashion Week was a chance for him to make contacts and sales. 

Newt was an independent company. It wasn’t a very large company. He made a lot of designs at home. Sometimes people from his office would come out and see him. Every two weeks he would spent three days in the city at the office making certain things went well. He would do model fittings and help with the in-office fashion shoots. But since he didn’t come from a big label he had to work hard to get his clothes sold. 

So he would do his best not to be too awkward, to make eye contact, to not get over anxious from the noise, lights and press of people. And he would be eternally grateful for the Goldstein sisters and for Seraphina actually having agreed to model for him for his last line. The three of them want the products to sell well. If they the Scamander label took off, then their work would get more recognition. And whatever connections they made for other work would still reflect well on him because they were currently working with him.

“It will go well. It did the last two years,” Tina pointed out. 

“I know,” Newt said. “Not that it would go well without you.” 

“It wouldn’t go well without you either,” Tina said with a little laugh. “We wouldn’t be there without you. Remember that.” 

“I will,” Newt said quietly. He took one last deep breath of evening air. “Alright, we should go to bed. We have a long drive tomorrow.” 

“You mean Queenie and I have a long drive,” she said. 

“I do too,” Newt said. He drove all by himself to the city and back all throughout the year. But when it came time for Fashion Week and Lingerie Fashion Week, the sisters always seemed to do all the driving.

Tina only laughed a little. She kissed his cheek. “Come on, Newt. Let’s get to bed.” She took his hand and guided him in. His chest hurt a little again. He missed her already, knowing that he’d leave her behind when he and Queen returned after the week was over. 

As much as Newt always dreaded this week, he also did enjoy it. The amount of creativity was always dizzying, as were the colors and the amount of beautiful people. But that was the fun as well. It only happened once a year. Newt promised himself silently that he would make the most of it this year.

* * *

Credence Barebone was one of the faces of Graves House Fashion. He had been for the past three years, since he’d turned 18 and left his mother’s house. Credence found this to be a little preposterous, since when he broke out, he was a lanky over large stork boy with a bad haircut. And the only thing that had changed since then was the haircut. Even that didn’t help. But Mr Graves assured him that he had a look that helped sell clothes. Apparently he was right, though Credence didn’t understand it.

But being the face of a fashion house had its perks. In this case it was a front row seat to a number of shows at Lingerie Fashion Week. Credence had been too scared to ask the year before if he could go, but this year he had a tiny bit of leverage that made him feel like he could ask. 

His contract was up for renegotiations. Mostly he just didn’t know what he wanted except that he didn’t want to sign the damn thing. Mr. Graves wanted to keep him around, so he hadn’t pushed. And Credence was happy with that. He felt less tied down. But he also couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. Mr. Graves had saved him. There were many things that made Credence uncomfortable working for Mr. Graves, but Credence had figured out in the past three years that he was just an uncomfortable person. 

And really, if people had anywhere near the amount of trouble talking to him as he had talking to him, it was a wonder Mr. Graves was willing to put up with him at all. 

But this wasn’t about Credence. Well, his wanting to be there was. Mr. Graves had been surprised that Credence had asked to go to Lingerie Fashion Week with him. 

“If you’re looking for boys in lingerie, you’re not going to see many. It’s mostly tits,” Mr. Graves said. That had made Credence’s heart flip over. Mr. Graves knew intimately that Credence only liked men. Mr. Graves was the only lover Credence ever had, and they weren’t even exclusive. It just happened sometimes. 

Like when they’d had a big win, or a great show. And sometimes when Credence couldn’t stand to be still the way the photographers needed him to be. Or when he tried to withdraw when Mr. Graves needed him to be present. Then Credence would get fucked especially hard. Which he hated, but at least the pain gave him something else to focus on besides his own feelings of wanting to crawl out of his skin. It got him through whatever it was Mr. Graves needed him to get through. 

So Credence supposed it was probably a good thing. Mr. Graves understood him. Credence anyone else would ever want to, once they realized just what a problem Credence was. 

One of those problems was why he was on Mr. Graves arm. Mr. Graves walked him to their seats and sat him down. “I’m going to do business. Stay here and keep my seat warm,” Mr. Graves said and then walked off. 

Credence did as he was told. For the most part he was good at that. The white folding chairs that were set up were absolutely frigid. He would move over when Mr. Graves returned and sit in his own seat. But Mr. Graves wouldn’t have to suffer this. Credence liked being helpful. And he didn’t want Mr. Graves to get upset and take them home early. 

He put on his work face, which was blank with a side of angry. It kept people away, which was what he wanted. 

Even though he knew he was queer, he didn’t have a problem with seeing naked women. He understood how women could be aesthetically pleasing. He just didn’t feel the same kind of attraction that he did to men, especially toward Mr. Graves. Credence knew that a lot of people thought gay men were disgusted by women’s bodies. But Credence wasn’t. 

He also didn’t like being called gay. He was only comfortable with being called queer. But then, that was another one of his problems. 

He tried to focus on just being happy to be there. No one approached him. He was grateful for that. When Mr. Graves returned, Credence moved over. It made him shiver to sit in the frigid seat when he’d only just warmed up. But Mr. Graves was close and he was always warm. It wasn’t so bad, even if Credence wasn’t supposed to snuggle against him like he wanted to. 

Mr. Graves handed him a program. “There are three independent companies lined up for this exhibition,” he said. 

“Yes,” Credence said, just to have something to say. He flipped through the program. They named the three independent designers and what label they were with. They had a picture of the design in black and white, and a couple of pictures of previous pieces, along with a bio and website and social information. 

The show started very much the way that all other fashion shows started. The designer introduced themselves and their line and then got out of the way so the models could start walking. The first had a nautical theme that made Credence want to laugh. He definitely smiled. He knew he did because Mr. Graves gave his knee a squeeze. Mr. Graves only gave him those types of touches when Credence managed to smile. It was like a little reward.

The second one went for a more decadent look. The detailing was amazing, including the matching bra and panty set made out of pearls (or probably faux pearls, because real ones were too expensive). Only being stuffed in and out of clothes so much gave Credence the idea that this designer mixed expensive and inexpensive materials to try and make everything look very expensive. He didn’t see anything that looked like it would be comfortable to wear, but it made for a beautiful show. 

Then came the third show.

The man came out wearing a gold-brown vest and a light blue dress shirt, and dark brown corduroy pants. He had the most perfect mop of wild gold and brown curls that Credence had ever seen. The man looked to be approximately entirely elbows and disorganization. And he smiled like he was almost too shy to stand up there with a microphone. 

“Scamander Lingerie aims to serve all women,” the man said. Then he turned off the mic and walked back stage. The show began instantly. The song was light, like a field of flowers. 

The first woman strode out. She had on mint colored lacy underwear, lacy green stockings with brightly colored gold stars on them, and white heeled boots. Across her shoulders lay a short feather boa with light teal feathers with shoots of white. There were adorable tassels at the end. Credence wanted to be wearing what she was wearing. He imagined that even on his exceptionally white skin that it would look good. The model’s skin was about as white as his, but looked healthy, while he always felt his looked sallow. 

The woman was gold curls as well, but not like the designer. And she smiled broadly, and struck a cute pose at the end of the run way. She raised a leg, made a peace sign at the audience and kissed the air. She looked like she was having fun out there. 

The second woman was larger, probably the largest plus sized model that Credence had ever seen on a run way. She wore bright orange, which stood out beautifully against her dark brown skin. She had a sheer orange robe which had a belt of ostrich feathers. She wasn’t as flamboyant as the previous model, but she also smiled instead of the normal dead face designers wanted their models to have.

The collection had fifteen pieces. No model had the same look. Only two models had the same body type and they were the only two white women among the models. The show ended with a model Credence knew as Seraphina Picquery. She was in large semi-sheer robe which had a beautiful royal blue underwear set underneath. They got a better look when Seraphina opened the robe. She didn’t smile, but she just had such a powerful presence that it carried her down the run way. 

Credence found himself standing and clapping as the models and their designer all walked out for one last look. Each woman had her own personality, and that made the lingerie, even the very complex and daring pieces seem so much more wearable.

Credence was actually jealous of the models. 

“Come on,” Mr. Graves said.  
Credence followed after him. There was something of an after party for events like this. It was a chance for potential buyers to see the work up close, and for other business insiders to talk to the designers and the models. Mr. Graves had an invitation. And because he did, Credence did too.

They walked back past security to the lounge. Already models from the first two shows were standing or sitting around, waiting to talk to people, or quietly chatting with someone. Mr. Graves broke away, but Credence was happy with that. Mr. Graves would be looking for new models for his next line, or maybe he’d offer a designer a deal to sell something at the Graves store in New York. Credence didn’t care that much about business dealings. Normally he didn’t like being abandoned because he found it awkward to talk to people. But Credence had someone he wanted to talk to. 

He spotted the model in the mint outfit first. He walked over to her. “Excuse me,” he said. He spoke firmly, like Mr. Graves taught him to.

The woman turned around and beamed at him. “Queenie Goldstein,” she introduced. She offered him her hand. He took her hand and shook it once before letting go. 

“Credence Barebone,” he said. 

“From Grave House?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Credence said. “I liked your walk,” he said. He met her eyes and then looked at her nose. It was easier to talk to noses. 

“Thank you. Newt really let us have free reign on this one. I’m glad too. I can already hear people talking. You definitely want people talking about a runway show,” she said. 

His lips twitched. It was almost a smile. “Yes, you do. Can I ask you about your boa?” he asked. 

“I love this thing. Newt has his own ostriches. He collects their feathers for his own shows, or outsources to reliable cruelty free Ostrich farms for sale products,” she said. She ran her hand down the boa. 

“How did he come up with that?” he asked. 

“Newt said it was based on a Victorian design,” she said. 

“Is it comfortable?” Credence asked. “The outfit, I mean?” 

Queenie giggled. “Yes. I test drive a lot of Newt’s designs. Wear them during a day. And of course, if my husband likes them, then we know they’re good.” 

“You’re married? That’s nice,” Credence said. He liked the idea of being married and still working. It seemed so nice, to have a spouse that respected your work. 

“Jacob’s one of a kind,” she said proudly. “Now, if you have other questions about the designs, you’ll want to talk to Newt.” 

“Oh, yes, I haven’t seen him yet,” Credence said. He looked around, but he couldn’t see that distinctive mop of honey colored hair. 

“Come on,” Queenie said. She took Jacob’s hand and dragged him over to a set of chairs in some back corner. 

Like magic, there was the designer, sitting nursing a drink. Credence didn’t know how he didn’t have a ton of people around him, but he was alone. 

“Honey,” Queenie called. The designer’s head shot up. He smiled at her until he noticed Credence. Then his smile turned nervous. “Newt, honey. This is Credence Barebone. He’s interested in your designs.” 

“Oh, of course,” Newt said. He sounded nervous. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barebone.” 

“Credence is fine, Sir,” Credence answered. 

“Call me Newt, please,” the man requested. 

“Next,” Credence said. He licked his lips nervously. I really liked your collection. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions.” 

“Not at all. Please, sit,” he said, indicating the seat next to him on the loveseat Newt Scamander had situated himself on. 

Credence slowly sat down. He didn’t want to get too close to Newt Scamander. People didn’t like it when he got too close. He had to be careful not to cross boundaries. 

“I’m going back to schmoozing,” Queenie said. “You be good, Honey,” she said. She winked at Newt. Sitting next to Newt like that, Credence got a front row seat to Newt’s face turning red. 

“She seems very nice,” Credence said. 

“She’s fantastic,” Newt said. “One of my dear friends, actually. And I love working with her. She’s very fun to work with.” 

“I think she would be,” Credence said. “I told her I liked her walk.” 

“Yes, well, I’ve never liked the idea of models being living mannequins. They’re giving people an idea of what the clothes would look like on them. And we all talked about it this time… I really like how it turned out.” Newt was smiling. It was still a nervous smile, but it was a smile. 

“There was a lot of life in your pieces,” Credence wasn’t certain how else to describe it. They felt brand new, expensive, and run way show fun. But they also felt like they could and had been lived in. “I think that they’ll sell well.” 

“I think so too,” Newt said. He looked really pleased. “We’ve had a rise in clientele the past few years. I’m very proud of what I’ve done this year. I think that we’ll be able to fulfill more orders.” 

Mr. Graves talked about orders sometimes, but like they were just numbers. Newt sounded proud and mostly very happy. Credence liked that. He hoped that Newt would get good sales. Work like that deserved to be noticed and bought. 

“Do you get orders at the show?” Credence asked. 

“Sometimes. From models sometimes, or women or men who are interested in owning something,” Newt said.

Credence felt his face begin to heat up. He knew, of course that men wore lingerie sometimes. And Credence had pictured himself wearing such things. But he also knew he was not supposed to. And Newt said it so casually like of course men bought from him. 

“I-I was talking about distributors,” Credence said. He convinced himself that he was.

“Oh… well, not really. I’m not great at talking to people,” Newt said. 

Credence looked Newt in the eyes, only to realize that Newt wasn’t meeting his gaze. Credence dropped his gaze and just felt relieved. Someone he didn’t have to fight so hard to speak to. 

“You talk to me just fine,” Credence pointed out. 

“Yes, well,” Newt said. “It’s different with individuals. And one of my closest friends brought you over. Queenie is the best at reading people. And you’ve been very nice so far. You’re easy to talk to.” 

“I think you’re easy to talk to,” Credence said. “I’m not great with people either… Newt, Mr. Scamander?”

“Newt, please,” Newt said. 

“Newt,” Credence said, ignoring the way his cheeks started to warm again. Mr. Graves had drilled into his head that business always came first. “Would you like to sell your work through a larger distributor?” 

“Yes, of course,” Newt said. “It would make things easier. I’m just not great at making contacts.” 

“Well,” Credence started. He stopped and took a deep breath. “I know someone. I think that he might be able to help. At least get your things into one store in the city. Would you like to try?” 

Newt perked up. “Really?” 

“Yes,” Credence said. He smiled. He knew he was smiling. And Newt beamed up at him like the sun. Credence didn’t even know how a human being could smile so broadly. 

Credence stood up silently. He offered his hand to Newt who took it instantly. Credence almost jolted. The last time he’d offered his hand to someone like that had been his little sister Modesty. His heart squeezed a bit whenever he thought about her, so he often didn’t. 

Credence helped Newt up and then started leading him through the throng of scantily clad women, designers, agents, photographers and other guests. It wasn’t hard for Credence to find Mr. Graves. He always seemed to be able to home right in on him. Mr. Graves was talking to a photographer, which meant Credence was probably safe to interrupt him. 

“Mr. Graves,” Credence said, cutting in. 

“Credence,” Mr. Graves said. He sounded a little annoyed. Credence noted the way his expression changed just a little when he saw that Credence was holding Newt’s hand. It wasn’t anger, but Mr. Graves wasn’t happy. He didn’t want to exacerbate Mr. Graves’ mood, so Credence quickly dropped Newt’s hand. 

“Mr. Graves, this is Newt Scamander, the designer of the third collection,” Credence said. He turned to look back at Newt. Newt wasn’t smiling now. 

“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Scamander,” Mr. Graves said. Credence felt a strong arm loop around his waist and pull him next to Mr. Graves. Now Credence got a really good look at Newt. He seemed very closed off. Maybe that’s what Newt meant by not good at talking with people.  
“And you,” Newt said. He cast his eyes from probably somewhere around Mr. Graves chest over to Credence. For a half second, Credence and Newt were looking into each other’s eyes. Then Newt cast his gaze aside. And Credence understood. Their gaze meeting was an accident. Looking in someone’s eyes was uncomfortable. Although for whatever reason, Credence had less trouble looking at Newt’s eyes. Maybe it was because Newt also didn’t do well with eye contact.

“Mr. Graves, I was thinking maybe Mr. Scamander’s line would work for you woman’s section in the store. You were saying that you wanted to include more lingerie,” Credence said. 

Mr. Graves pursed his lips. “I’m not certain that Mr. Scamander’s line fits with our aesthetic.” 

“Well, the last piece, the one Seraphina Picquery wore first perfectly. And there are others similar enough. And they all seem to go together. And you always say that sometimes you need to be different to get attention,” Credence said. Mr. Graves gave him a look. Credence didn’t know why he was fighting so hard. He normally didn’t. He just thought this was a good idea. And with Newt standing there, Credence didn’t feel like he could give anything less than his best. 

“This is true,” Mr. Graves said. He looked back at Newt and Credence followed his gaze. “Credence makes a good point. Mr. Scamander, how would you like sell your lingerie at the Graves House store?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Newt said tersely. 

“Newt,” Credence said. He was shocked. He actually felt hurt. Mr. Graves was going to be angry about this. Credence had actually fought for something. He normally would never question Mr. Graves, especially not in front of people. And a photographer was still standing nearby. 

“I’m sorry, Credence. But Mr. Graves was correct. Our… aesthetics don’t match. I appreciate the offer, Mr. Graves. I’m sorry.” Newt bowed his head and he looked at Credence one last time. Then he turned and walked away. 

The photographer turned and walked away too. Credence just hoped the man hadn’t gotten pictures of them all talking. It might be bad for Graves House Fashions. 

“I’m so sorry Mr. Graves,” Credence said quietly. Mr. Graves still had his arm around him, but as warm as it was and as much as Credence had wished for it earlier, it now made him feel cold. 

“Why did you bring that man over to me?” Mr. Graves asked. With his mother, Credence could always tell when he was in trouble. With Mr. Graves he could never really tell. 

“I liked his work,” Credence said. “He was talking about wishing more people would buy his work. You said you were looking for something new… if I’d known he was going to do that I never would have brought him over. 

Mr. Graves ruffled his hair. Credence let out a sigh of relief. He’d escaped trouble, for now anyway. 

“You have been listening to me. That’s nice to know. But it seems like you don’t have much head for business,” Mr. Graves said. 

Credence looked off the direction Newt had gone, disappearing into the crowd. “I suppose not,” he said quietly.

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Queenie said slowly. She sounded unhappy, but not the furious Tina had been before they’d parted ways. “Percival Graves offered to feature your work, our work in his New York store. This would have been a big break for the brand. And yet you turned him down.” 

“It felt wrong,” Newt said. He looked out at the road. Queenie was driving. It had taken Newt until Lingerie Fashion Week to tell the Goldstein sisters that he’d had an offer from one of the premier New York designers. And then he’d only told because Seraphina read it online from a reporter who had apparently been nearby when Newt was talking to Graves and Credence.

“You have to give me more than that, Newt,” Queenie said. 

“He… Credence dragged me over and Graves looked at us like Credence touching me was a sin,” Newt explained. 

“Oh,” she said. 

“I know an abused animal when I see one,” Newt said. 

“Humans don’t always react like animals,” Queenie reminded him. 

“And they don’t always not,” Newt reminded her back. 

Queenie didn’t say anything. Newt had to turn and look at her to get a read on what he silence meant. She was frowning and her eyes were fixed on the road. 

“I didn’t like that Graves grabbed Credence like that. It felt like I’d touched something he owned. I don’t want to work with a man like that.” Newt looked down at his knees. 

“I understand,” Queenie said quietly. 

“Do you forgive me?” Newt asked. 

“For not making the deal,” Queenie said. “But Newt, you haven’t been alone for a while. You share things like this with your friends. Especially because it’s bothering you so much.” 

Newt couldn’t argue with that. So he didn’t. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Newt said. “I should have told you and Tina. I’ll call her tonight and explain.” 

“Remember to use your words this time,” Queenie said, teasing him gently. He could tell by her tone of voice that she was smiling. 

Newt smiled at his knees. “I will, I promise.”

“We need you both to be alright with each other for New York Fashion Week,” Queenie said. 

“That’s more than a month and a half away,” Newt said, wrinkling his nose. 

“And that’s an awful long time to be mad at someone,” Queenie responded. 

“Yes, but I’m not going to let it get that far,” Newt said. “I promise.” 

“How about I pull over at the next exit and you can call.” Queenie would probably do it anyway even if Newt swore he’d call later. Queenie didn’t like when Newt and Tina were fighting. She especially didn’t like it when it was an apparent easy fix. 

“Okay, Queen,” Newt said. He didn’t want to make either sister worry. They didn’t deserve it. Tina was just thinking about all of their jobs. Newt shouldn’t have gotten so upset with her. And she would understand too once he explained. He could always trust that about Tina.

“Do you really think Credence Barebone has been abused?” Queenie asked. 

Ys, he did. But Newt had been wrong before. He didn’t want to be right on this. “I don’t know.” 

“We’ll keep an eye out. We’ll be at New York Fashion week as well,” she said. 

Newt nodded until he realized that Queenie probably couldn’t see that he’d done so. “The face of Graves House Fashion,” Newt murmured. Of course Credence would be there. 

“Don’t worry about it too much, Honey,” Queenie said. “There isn’t much to do right now. And you need to get everything down for the show at Fashion Week.” 

“I won’t lose focus,” Newt said. “Promise.” 

“I know you won’t,” Queenie said. “Just try not to worry too much.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Newt said. He didn’t like promising things he wasn’t certain he could keep. Especially not to his friends.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ready?” Mr. Graves asked. 

Credence looked up from where the make-up artists were working on his chest. Credence hated having a bare chest on the run way. His mother had left some nasty scars on his body. People tended to not look at his palms. And if he thought they might he would wear gloves. But his chest and back were different. In pictures there was photoshop. On the runway there wasn’t. 

Credence actually didn’t mind so much if people saw. He’d survived someone who hurt him very much because she suspected he might be attracted to men, and because she suspected that he didn’t really want to be a boy all the time. Mr. Graves assured Credence that liking men was good. But whenever Credence tried to dress less than masculine, Mr. Graves would give Credence a disapproving look. 

He’d even slapped him once for it. 

But really, Credence deserved it. He’d tried to wear a pink blouse to a media event. That would tarnish the Graves House Fashion image. Credence needed to think of himself as an icon, not as a person. And when he was one on one and alone with Mr. Graves, Credence’s clothes didn’t normally stay on too long.

Mr. Graves knew best. Credence hated the scars on his hands because he couldn’t escape them. But the ones of his chest he wished he could show of as a badge of courage. But Mr. Graves said that was a silly way to think. Scars were signs of weaknesses. The strong face of a fashion house couldn’t be seen as being weak like that. 

And that was part of the current line. It was military inspired. Credence would be in a military band like jacket which was all black. His pale skin made the black stand out more. Mr. Graves liked him in black. Credence preferred colors. But Mr. Graves was the designer, so he understood these things better. 

Like the haircut. 

Credence hated looking at himself in the mirror now. All he could see was the boy he’d been in his mother’s house, with that awful bowl cut. Mr. Graves said that it looked militaristic. Credence thought he looked horrible, and he thought maybe Mr. Graves was punishing him or something. But he barely acknowledged those feelings. It wouldn’t do to question Mr. Graves. 

He saw what that got them when he did. 

Newt Scamander’s brand had gotten a boost off the back of the Graves House Fashion image when he turned down Mr. Graves like that. The reporter had reported it, because it was a story. 

People were, according to Mr. Graves, only ever out to promote themselves. And that’s what Newt Scamander had done. He’d gotten promoted and Mr. Graves had been humiliated. More so because Credence was the one who recommended Newt. 

Credence would be paying off that mistake for quite a while. 

“Always, Mr. Graves,” Credence said. 

“Good boy,” Mr. Graves said. He moved away from Credence, checking on the other models. Credence followed Mr. Graves with his eyes. 

Show days were always chaotic, but they had an odd sort of routine. Models would be up early. They’d go into hair and make-up, and then they would get their clothes on. Sometimes someone would change what they would wear half way in. Mr. Graves was fairly meticulous, but even as prepared as he always was, things happened. Things changed. They always changed. It never went quite the way you expected.

Credence had learned very quickly that the best thing he could do to help was do what he was told and then do his best to be the best model he could. He was good at both of those things. And things always changed. 

Normally he closed the show, but this time he was setting the show. His look and walk would set the tone for the show. It made him excited and nervous. It wasn’t what he was used to. But the final piece was such a big piece of construction that Credence was very glad he didn’t have to wear it. He didn’t want to be weighed down physically when he felt that way emotionally. 

But still, the sudden change was jarring for Credence. 

When the makeup artists released him, someone helped him get back into his jacket and get ready in line. Credence felt his normal fear start to twist in his stomach. He always got stage fright. But as soon as the music started and he started down the run way, he was always fine.

Mr. Graves introduced the collection this year. He didn’t always, but he did this time. One year when the show was over, Mr. Graves had slung his arm over Credence’s shoulders as they did the final walk. Credence had been the happiest he’d ever been in his life. 

That seemed like a long time ago now. 

Still, Mr. Graves winked at him once he walked back stage after his introduction. Credence didn’t have time to dwell on it. The music started. He put on a blank, slightly angry face, kept his head held high and began walking. 

This part went quickly. He walked to the end, struck a pose and then walked back down the runway. He went back stage and lined up for the final walk. The walking was more fun than the waiting. Those seconds on the run way were everything. Even doing the final walk was fun, even though it was also bitter sweet because everything they’d put into this year’s collection was over now. Now it was all spin and nothing Credence could do except talk to people. 

Mr. Graves slung his arm over someone else. Credence got to see this once he was backstage. At one point he might have burned with jealousy. Now he just felt a little relieved. A part of him wondered if Mr. Graves would replace him. Another part of him said ‘good’. 

That shocked him a bit, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He was manhandled out to the after party. Mr. Graves insisted on these. People got a chance to see clothes, but only industry insiders. The models were watched so they wouldn’t leave the designated area. They didn’t want their designs stolen, but they wanted people who wanted to buy from Graves House Fashion a chance to see what they were buying. 

Credence hated this. He wasn’t good at being social. And it seemed like as soon as he policed back to the after party that there were already people there wanting to talk to him. A lot of them were reporters. After about the seventh time someone asked him why he’d been moved from being the finale model and Credence having to repeat what an honor it was to set the tone for the collection, Credence felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Excuse me,” he muttered. He tried to turn around and get away, only to run into someone with a glass of Champaign. 

He heard the man say he was sorry and start to try and wipe Credence’s chest clean with a napkin. When Credence saw light brown on the white napkin, Credence bolted. The makeup had come off. 

He ducked into the bathroom and shut the door. He took a breath or too, trying to calm his galloping heart. Then he went to look at himself in the mirror. He was still damp and sticky. He’d have to clean that off, but his scars were showing already. Even in the low lights of the after party, people would still notice. 

Mr. Graves was still so angry at him from his mistake a month ago. If his scars to all these people, Mr. Graves would be furious. He might never forgive Credence for ruining the face of his brand. 

Credence felt hot pressure behind his eyes. He blinked rapidly so he wouldn’t cry. The only thing worse than showing his scars would be to ruin the make up around his face. He couldn’t come out looking like a mess. And he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. He didn’t know what to do. 

“Credence?” 

Credence knew that voice. He didn’t even have to whip his head around to know who the soft, accented voice belonged to. 

“I didn’t know you’d me here, Mr. Scamander,” Credence said. He kept his eye focused down on the sink.

“Serphina’s in talks to be in a model for the next line. She didn’t want to come without me,” Newt said. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Credence said weakly. He listened to Newt’s shoes tap against the tile as he walked closer. Credence looked to his left to see Newt standing in front of one of the other sinks, but not too near to Credence. 

“I’m not really good with people either,” Newt said. 

Credence let out a short, bitter laugh. “I wish that was the problem.” 

“Then what is the problem?” Newt asked. His tone was so soft and gentle. Honestly, Credence was having a hard time caring about anyone knowing about his scars anymore. 

Credence turned so Newt could see his chest. “Mr. Graves will be angry if I walk out with these showing,” he said. 

Newt frowned. He leaned in a little closer to inspect the exposed and half exposed scars on Credence’s chest. “Do you not want people to see?” 

“I don’t care, really,” Credence said. “But I’m still the face of Graves House Fashion. It won’t be good for the label’s image if I’m seen like this.” 

“I see,” Newt said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Tina should have concealer that’s close. And if she doesn’t, I’m certain Queenie can steal a little. Do you mind if I ask them for help?” 

“No,” Credence said. A relief settled into his chest. He wouldn’t be trapped in his bathroom forever. He carefully took off his jacket and hung it on one of the wall hooks and then returned to the sink. He began to wash the Champaign from his chest, taking most of the make-up off with it. 

“Is there anything on the jacket?” Newt asked

“It doesn’t matter,” Credence said. “It’s black. It won’t show. And everything gets dry cleaned later anyway.” 

“Okay,” Newt said. “Credence, can I ask an awkward question?” 

“I’m pretty sure this entire situation is too awkward for any question to not be awkward,” Credence said. He was trying to make a joke to not give away the way his heart flipped over with fear. He didn’t want to talk about how he got his scars.

Newt made a face and looked down at the floor. Credence felt a little relieved only because no matter what question Newt asked, he wouldn’t be able to see Credence’s expression. 

“Would you mind getting photographed where your scars show?” Newt asked. 

Well, yes that was sort of an awkward question, but not the kind of awkward Credence minded. 

“No. I really wish for once Mr. Graves wouldn’t have them photoshop it all out,” Credence admitted. 

“Because… well, I think that you have a great body, and that you’d look really good modeling… well-” Newt cut himself off. He was blushing. Credence found that endearing. “I want to do a male line of lingerie, and I really think you’d be good for it. I apologize if you’re not interested. I know some men get insulted when I ask them to model feminine things. But you’d be perfect for my next line.” 

Credence knew his mouth was hanging open. Everything about what Newt was offering made Credence’s spirit sing. The only thing he didn’t like was when Newt called him a man. That made something in Credence’s chest twist uncomfortably. But otherwise, it was the kind of job Credence had always wished he could do once he started modeling. 

“Are you offering me a job, Mr. Scamander?” Credence asked. He tried to keep his voice level and not sound too desperate with once. 

“Yes, I am,” Newt said. He looked up and at Credence. Credence could tell Newt was looking at his hair line, and not in Credence’s eyes. But Credence preferred it that way. 

“I’m not certain that Mr. Graves will like it,” Credence said. “He’s so protective of his company image.” 

Newt’s face fell. “How long until you’re contract’s over?” 

“Oh,” Credence said. “It’s… I haven’t signed the new one yet.” 

“Oh, well then,” Newt said. He looked less unhappy anyway. “I suppose my offer still stands. I can’t pay as well as Percival Graves, but I can pay. And you wouldn’t be exclusive to me. You couldn’t schedule work that interferes, but I’m not very demanding. You can ask the other models who work with me.” 

“I…” Credence trailed off. He’d always bee exclusive to Mr. Graves. Completely. Mr. Graves had saved his life, and so he owned it. Credence even lived in a room in Mr. Graves apartment. Mr. Graves didn’t always live there, but Credence always did. 

“Think about it,” Newt said. 

There was a knock on the bathroom door before someone pushed it open. Credence recognized the woman as one of Newt’s models. 

“Oh, Tina, did you find what we were looking for?” Newt asked. 

“Queenie bribed a make-up artist to get Credence’s exact shade,” Tina said. She walked inside and then used one of the chairs in the bathroom to block the entrance. “Honestly, Newt, if you didn’t want anyone to see you should take more care.” 

“You’re right,” Newt said. “Sorry, Credence, I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Me either,” Credence said. 

Tina walked over to Credence, eying his chest. “Do you mind if I touch you?” she asked. 

“No,” Credence said. He moved his arms out of the way so she’d have access. She started to spread thee concealer on his body and then smudge it with her fingers. 

“I asked Credence to come work with us,” Newt said. 

“Really?” Tina brightened. “It’s been Newt’s dream for years to do a male like. He really wants to get Queenie’s husband to work with him too.” 

“Jacob’s nervous,” Newt said. “I’d have an easier time of it if I had someone else on board as well.” 

“Well, Queenie likes the idea,” Tina said. 

“I know she is,” Newt said, smiling a little. He was watching Tina work, but Credence was watching Newt. 

“Do you have other models in mind?” Credence asked. 

“Not exactly,” Newt said. “I mainly deal with women. Seraphina has a couple of suggestions, but I’m trying to find a bunch of different body types. Lingerie is supposed to make people feel good about themselves when they wear it. If I only have male models who look like movie stars, then men will be more nervous about it.” 

“You’d be in the movie star model,” Tina said. Credence looked down at her in time to catch her wink. Credence blushed. 

“Yes, well,” Credence said. “I haven’t decided yet.” 

“You should come down to Newt’s farm,” Tina said.

“You have a farm?” Credence asked. 

“Yes,” Newt said. His eyes lit up suddenly. “I love animals. I have an animal sanctuary. It’s cows and chickens, but also rarer animals like ostriches, emus. I have cats, dogs, raccoons, squirrels. I have a bear on property right now. I’ve worked with larger animals, so sometimes I’ll care for animals who have been abused until they’re safe to take to a zoo or to be released. The brown bear I have has actually bonded with one of my mules. Oh! And bees! I also keep bees.” 

Newt was smiling before he finished talking. Credence had never thought of one man caring for so many creatures. 

“Wow, I’d love to see it,” Credence said. 

“Then schedule a weekend and come down,” Tina said. “It’s upstate. You probably take a vacation once Fashion Week is over, right?” 

“Always,” Credence said. Although he normally stayed home. Mr. Graves was going to Hawaii. Credence hadn’t been invited. Credence could be gone that entire week and Mr. Graves would never even notice. 

“Then why don’t you come down then?” Tina advised. 

“Mr. Scamander, would I be too much of an imposition?” Credence asked. 

“No, of course not. It’s always nice having company,” Newt said. 

“Oh… well, I still have things to do the week after Fashion Week. But I’m free the week after that. Can I come then?” Credence asked. He felt like his own voice sounded shy. 

“Of course you can come,” Newt said. He was smiling still, but it was a softer smile. “I’d be happy to have you.” 

“Alright. Then I’ll be there,” Credence said. He was smiling too. Just a little. 

Tina finished helping him with his chest. He gave them his cell phone number so they could next him the address later. Then all three of them left the bathroom. Credence mingled back with the crowd. His was polite, but not too engaged. He was going to have a real, actual vacation. Time with animals and away from the city. He was excited. 

Even Mr. Graves disapproving look couldn’t and harsh words about the Champaign covered jacket couldn’t break into Credence’s happy bubble. A real vacation. Credence couldn’t wait.

* * *

Newt spent all of Fashion Week being busy. He had his show and then stayed in New York in the office to get some work done. He had orders to fill and interviews to do. Queenie and Tina stuck around to help. Tina took Newt to a broadway show, which Newt enjoyed because people left them alone during the show. He got a lot done, but he was so happy to drive home with Queenie. 

Queenie dropped him off and picked up her husband. Jacob at least waved before he got in the car. Newt knew how much they missed each other. They would go home and make up for lost time. And Newt was about to be busy as well.

He spent a day checking up on his animals, but by the evening he’d tended to and snuggled everyone. Then he started cleaning his home. It was one thing when his friends came over, or even Seraphina. But Credence didn’t really know Newt. Newt was excited to have him over, but he didn’t want Credence to see how messy his place normally was. 

Newt struggled to clean up in a way that didn’t give him anxiety. Newt’s house was a mess in a certain order were Newt where everything was. And sometimes order could be very stressful for Newt. He had to call up Jacob and Queenie to come help him. He would admit he was in a bit of a panic about it all. 

Jacob got him a cup of coco and sat him down in the kitchen while Queenie made a plan for them. Queenie was so good at reading people that she was able to put together a plan that got Newt’s thing organized in a way that Newt felt comfortable with. She did odd groupings that Newt liked, and she made certain that any decorations weren’t too neat, and that some things were still on the counters and table tops. Newt felt like he could breathe again once they finished.

Newt was able to relax for a day or two after. 

Then Credence arrived. 

An Uber driver arrived with Credence. Credence had only one bag. He thanked the man politely and pulled out his phone. Newt spied him leaving a good review and a nice tip on his phone. Then he looked up at Newt and offered a nervous half smile. 

“Hello Mr. Scamander,” Credence said. 

“I’d prefer if you call me Newt,” Newt said. “Please come in. I have cookies baking.” 

“Cookies,” Credence said wistfully. “Your property is beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” Newt said. “It’s much bigger than what I had when I was in England.” 

“Did you have a farm there too?” Credence asked. He followed Newt inside the house. The house was a three story farm house with a two story addition. It was white on the outside and rustic on the inside. Nearby were a number of red barns. The land was expansive and divided by animal. Newt liked giving his creatures as much room to move around as they wanted. 

“Something like that,” Newt said. “It was horrible getting permits to bring all of my animals with me.” It had been a nightmare. Only his brother intervening got it done. He was grateful that his brother had done that for him. Although Newt rather thought it was just to get him out of the country. 

“I can’t imagine,” Credence said. 

Newt led Credence inside. Really, the house was much too big for just Newt to be living there. There were four bedrooms and a mind boggling seven bathrooms. Although that worked well for Newt, since he could clean himself and any house sized animal up without tracking mud through the house. The inside had a mixed rustic/colonial feel. The only thing Newt really liked about the house were the wood floors, which were a light wood and had all the detail with the grain and knots showing vividly. Newt worked to make certain he didn’t damage his floors. 

Other than that, the best thing about his farm were the animals and the closeness to his friends.

“This place is amazing,” Credence said. Newt hadn’t been paying attention to him, instead thinking about getting him upstairs to the guest room. But the tone in Credence’s voice made Newt turn around. The look on Credence’s face was pure wonder. 

“You like it?” Newt asked. 

“It’s like a place out of an old movie,” Credence said. He was looking at the china on a built in shelf in the kitchen. Newt had brought some of his mother’s old china from England, and bought a few himself. The display didn’t match and had no rhyme or reason except that Newt like things with delicate flower patterns. He’d rearranged the display when they were cleaning up. Newt really liked the new set, even though he knew his brother would say it made him look like an old lady.

“Yes, well,” Newt said. “It mostly came this way. I just try not to let it get too bad.” 

“I’d love to live in a place like this,” Credence said. 

“What’s your home like?” Newt asked curiously. 

“Modern,” Credence said, wrinkling his nose. 

Newt laughed. “I understand. I don’t like modern design. It feels untouchable.” 

“Yes, it’s like living in a museum,” Credence agreed. He ran a hand over the table, which Newt had been told was made of the same type of wood as the floor. Credence looked wistful.

“Why don’t you move?” Newt asked. 

“Well, I’ve never thought of it before,” Credence said. “I moved in with Mr. Graves as soon as I left my mother’s house. I’ve never considered house hunting before.” 

“You probably should get your own place,” Newt said. “Are you looking for an apartment in the city? Tina could probably help you.” 

“I don’t know. I’ve always thought about not living in the city. Which would be bad for my business, being so far away. But I’d want to live somewhere like here,” Credence said. 

“Let me show you the guest room,” Newt said. He guided Credence to the stairs. “You know, Queenie lives out here, and it doesn’t affect her career.” 

“She’s also married,” Credence pointed out. 

They headed up the stairs. One of the guest rooms belonged to Tina. It was the one furthest away from Newt’s room, but it had the most windows. The other guests room were kept neat, but weren’t as personalized. Queenie had helped Newt air out one of the rooms. It was decorated with flowers and reminded Newt a little of a meadow. It was his favorite room that wasn’t his. 

“And here’s your room,” Newt said. 

“Wow, this is wonderful,” Credence said. 

“You unpack. I’m going to get the biscuits out of the oven.” 

“I thought you said you were baking cookies,” Credence said. 

Newt felt a little embarrassed. “The Goldstein sisters have abused me into calling biscuits cookies… mostly.” 

“Oh,” Credence said. “Well, I’ll be down in a few minutes.” 

“Take your time,” Newt said. He left and headed back to the kitchen. He pulled his backing out of the oven. It was the last batch. He set them out to cool and turned off the oven. The kitchen smelled like vanilla, which Newt always liked.

He put on a kettle to make tea and contemplated which animals he should introduce Credence to first. Not the bees. For all Newt knew, Credence was allergic to bees. Actually, Credence could be allergic to any of the animals and Newt didn’t know.

“Credence,” Newt said when he heard Credence’s footsteps. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of,” Credence said. He walked into the kitchen and started sniffing the air. “That smells amazing.” 

“I’m good at baking,” Newt said. “And I find it soothing. If you do the right thing, you get the right result. Sometimes I bake after a hard day with the animals, or with work… people can be the worst.” 

“Agreed,” Credence said. He took a seat at the kitchen table. “Can I have a cookie?” 

“Yes. I’m making tea, would you like some?” Newt asked. 

“Please,” Credence said. 

“Alright, give me a moment.” Newt got out one of his china tea pots. He made a pot of tea and got out a nice plate to put the biscuits one. He set the table for them while Credence waited patiently. Newt noted the way Credence’s eyes tracked him. But Newt didn’t meet his gaze. To do so made Newt’s lungs feel like they couldn’t get enough air. He wasn’t in the mood to feel that way, and Credence didn’t seem like he cared for eye contact either. 

“I wondered why you didn’t live in the city,” Credence said as Newt set the tray with the tea pot on the table. “But I understand now.” 

“I’m not very good with people. The city has a lot of people. Out here, if I don’t like someone I generally don’t have to deal with them. That’s soothing.” 

“It sounds amazing,” Credence said reverently. 

“It is,” Newt admitted. “We’ll have to go into town to the bakery. Queenie and her husband Jacob own it. They make wonderful lunches and we can get a loaf of bread.” 

“Is her husband nice?” 

Newt smiled a little. “Jacob is my best friend. And he’s the first person I met in New York. He just wants to make delicious things that make people happy. He’s a kind, inventive baker. And he adores Queenie completely. I couldn’t think of a better match of people.” 

“That sounds nice,” Credence said. 

Newt began to pour him a cup of tea. He pushed the plate of biscuits where both of them could reach. “You’ll understand when you meet them.” 

“Newt,” Credence said hurriedly. “When you offered me a job… what made you think I would be good at this?” 

“Well,” Newt started. “You’re a professional. And you don’t really look like everyone else. Especially with the scars. I know men will look at you and feel braver to try lingerie. They’ll feel like maybe it’s something that’d okay.” 

“Yes, but… what about me made you think… that I would want to?” Credence asked. He looked very uncomfortable. He was looking down into his tea like it had all the answers. 

“I feel like there’s something you want to know, specifically, that isn’t what you’re actually asking me,” Newt said carefully. “You can ask. I won’t get mad.” 

“Do you think I look like a woman?” Credence demanded. He wasn’t looking up from his tea. Newt had a feeling that wasn’t really what Credence wanted to know. 

“What’s wrong if I did think that?” Newt asked. 

Credence shuddered. “I… Mr. Graves thinks men should look like men. Dress like it.” 

“Well, Mr. Graves is wrong,” Newt said, trying to sound firm, but not angry. He didn’t like Graves, especially where it came to Credence. Credence seemed like something important in his hand been ground into the dirt under Graves’ heel. 

“Is he?” Credence asked. “Most people think that way.” 

“First of all, when most people think something it’s often wrong. Second is that I don’t care what most people think. We’ve already established that we aren’t good with people. So why care about what they think of us. The only question is what you want. Do you want to model for me?” 

Credence didn’t answer. But Newt wasn’t going to talk first. He dipped his biscuit into his tea and took a bite. He was patient enough to wait out an answer. This was too important to let his mouth go off. Credence needed to decide for himself. 

“I’m not certain,” Credence said. 

“That’s fine. You don’t have to decide right now,” Newt said. He used his soothing voice, the one he used to calm his animals. “Credence, do you even want to wear lingerie?” 

“I’m not supposed to,” Credence mumbled. He still hadn’t looking up from his tea. 

“Forget about supposed to. What do you want?” Newt asked 

“I want to,” Credence said. 

“Okay, good,” Newt said. He was relieved that he hadn’t read Credence completely wrong. “How about I make you something? Even if you don’t work with me, you can still have it. And you won’t have to go through the trouble of buying something. And it will be custom fitted to you.” 

“Oh, Mr. Scamander, I don’t think I can do that,” Credence said quickly. He looked up from his tea. There was longing on his face and hesitance. 

“Call me Newt,” he reminded. “And it’s a gift. From a friend.” 

“Are… are we friends?” Credence whispered. 

“We could be,” Newt whispered. “I would like to try anyway. Will you allow me to?” 

“Yes,” Credence said. 

“Alright then. When you finish your tea we’ll get to work,” Newt said. 

“Work?” Credence asked. He looked a bit dazed. 

“Making your lingerie,” Newt said. He was smiling again. Credence was a beautiful subject to work. And he looked nice when he blushed like he was doing now. Newt really hoped that Credence would work with him. And he if he didn’t, it would be fine. Newt would get at least one chance to design for him. That would be a great pleasure for Newt.

He knew the feeling of when he was getting inspired. His mind was running extra fast, and he couldn’t keep his knee still. He had a stock of materials in his home. He’d get to see which ones worked best against Credence’s fair, fair skin. This feeling could push Newt through enough sketches and designs to make an entire new collection. He never felt this energized right after Fashion Week. And yet here Newt was, already nearly giddy just with the idea of a possible new model and the creation of only one piece. 

Yes, this would be a great pleasure for Newt.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a Lingerie Fashion Week, but it's not as close to New York Fashion Week irl. The lingerie I described is half from my imagination and half from the lingerie runway at this year's Paris Fashion Week. Queenie's boa is based on a real Victorian ostrich feather boa.
> 
> I am purposefully writing Credence to be Genderqueer (though preferring he/him pronouns). Newt is written to be on the autism spectrum. If you see a problem with my writing of either please message me on tumblr. My tumblr is the same as my ao3 handle. You can also leave a comment. I'll try to fix any problems.


End file.
